


after hours

by supernover



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: Cumswapping, Exhibitionism, M/M, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernover/pseuds/supernover
Summary: remember that picture of them all cuddled up in their jackets at glastonbury 1997 me too
Relationships: Damon Albarn/Graham Coxon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	after hours

**Author's Note:**

> I've had stuff piling up in my notes app for a minute so I though't I'd share anyways please don't clown on me I'm new here thank u

“Someone’s gonna see,” Graham chirped, wincing at the squeakiness of his voice and swallowing hard.

A lazy smirk spread across Damon’s face, his eyes remaining glued to Graham’s quivering lips. “Nobody will see,” he purred, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking. He pulled his arm out from beneath Graham, cupping the younger boy’s face with his warm hand, thumb gingerly grazing his lips. He leaned in closer and whispered, as if anyone could possibly hear them buried beneath the thick layers of jackets, “But they might hear, if you don’t keep quiet.” His hand trailed down Graham’s torso, finally meeting his gaze with a soft yet devious look.

“Damon,” he whined, still not convinced.

The older boy frowned. “I promise,” he hummed, leaning in to give the other a reassuring peck on the lips. “It’ll be—” another kiss, “our little—” he made sure to draw this one out, “secret,” he finally hissed, pouncing, pressing his tongue between Graham’s lips, insistent. Can’t argue with that, he figured—finally defeated. This is always how it was with Damon. He was like a drug, drowning out all logic in favor of pursuing pleasure so numbingly sweet. He’d make you stupid. He’d get you addicted. Graham was all too familiar with these side effects. His head was spinning pleasantly fast. He didn’t even notice how quickly Damon had undone his belt until his hand was wrapped around Graham's half-hard cock, stroking mercilessly as the other tried his best to contain his writhing.

“P-Please,” he groaned as quietly as he could manage given the circumstances.

“Please what?” Bastard. “You love this.” He swiped his thumb over the head, licking his lips at the sight. It earned him a low moan from Graham. His breath hitched with a sharp gasp and his heart felt as though it was on the verge of leaping out of his chest. He pressed his forehead against Damon’s, wiggling his hips in time with Damon’s hand to chase the feeling. “Stop squirming.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Sure, you can. Unless you really do want someone to see?” Graham furrowed his brow at this, irritated. It was all just a game to Damon. He could care less whether or not it actually got Graham off. This is what he really wanted. Superiority. Control. Power. It was no different in rehearsals. “You want everyone to know what a slut you are?” Graham let out a soft whine at this idea. Then all of that bitterness melted away in favor of lust overwhelming his senses. They were certainly pressing their luck these days. In the back of the tour bus, dingy bathroom cubicles, closets, the recording studio—they needed it whenever they could get it. Sometimes they’d settle for sloppy, drunken makeout sessions in the mostly vacant alleys behind whatever venue they’d performed at, haphazardly throwing caution to the wind in favor of pursuing the pleasure they so desperately craved.

Admittedly, sometimes Graham had secretly wished for someone to catch them. Sometimes he’d imagine it’d be Dave. A poor, unsuspecting stagehand, even. Their tour manager, Ifan. Alex. Witnessing Graham, situated on his knees, head bobbing fervently between Damon’s legs as he impatiently thrusted into Graham’s warm and willing mouth. Having Damon fold him over the nearest available surface, fucking him so hard you’d think he’d split the poor boy in half. Someone would meander into the bathroom, dressing room, wherever, and Damon’s thrusts would remain unrelenting, his movements not faltering in the slightest even while in the presence of a complete stranger, a bandmate. In his fantasies, sometimes they’d leave. Most of the time, they stayed—watching as Graham fell apart perfectly by the hands of his lover, vulnerable and pliant. Fuck, he was so close.

“You think you can cum for me?” Damon growled.

Graham was jerked back down to earth, nodding just a touch too eagerly. “Yes.”

“Come on, then.” He leaned in closer, lips just barely touching. “Give it to me,” he whined. His voice alone was pornographic. Always one for good showmanship. Graham obliged with a litany of soft whimpers of ‘Damon’ and ‘fuck’. God, he hated how his voice sounded whenever he’d climax. So whiny and pathetic—exactly how Damon liked it. He couldn’t be bothered to think about it now, he was far too fixated with the visual of Damon sucking and licking his fingers clean.

“D’you want a taste?” Graham nodded again. Damon leaned forward, unfurling his tongue, allowing it to spill from his lips and between Graham’s. It was so filthy that Graham’s already spent cock began stirring with intrigue once more, twitching back to life. Damon messily slotted their mouths together, swapping the cum back and forth with their tongues moving languidly against one another's. Graham’s cheeks were burning red, now. He felt dizzy. It was almost too much. Almost…

but still, somehow, never enough.

**Author's Note:**

> tee hee :o)


End file.
